


Retreat

by paperstorm



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Luke is probably underage but it isn't specified, M/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2712443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Luke is so exposed and vulnerable like this, asleep and defenseless and just trusting that nothing bad will happen – that Michael will keep him safe.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retreat

**Author's Note:**

> For my lovely friend Kat. This is my rambly attempt to explain this photo of Luke being the sweetest sleeping angel in existance. 

“Are you rooming with Mike?” Liz asks Luke. Michael can’t help but grin. Liz is pretty much the only one who ever calls him that. It sounds strange in anyone else’s voice.

“Yeah,” Luke answers, hitching his bag up on his shoulder and yawning widely. Flying from Australia to the States is way, way too long. It isn’t the first time they’ve done it and Michael still isn’t used to how much it knocks him flat. Jetlag is real, and never more unbearable than when he’s crossed this many time-zones.

“I’m sorta starting to take that personally, you know,” Calum says, with an exaggerated pout. They used to kind of rotate, so no one would get sick of anyone else – not that they ever really have. Their co-dependency as a group is starting to border on unhealthy, but fuck if Michael’s complaining. Growing up he always wanted to belong to something as concrete as a band, and now that he does he’s not letting any of them go without a fight. Lately, though, Michael and Luke always stay together. Michael does feel a little guilty about that, because they can’t tell everyone why yet. Soon, maybe. Not yet. Michael’s not ready, Luke isn’t either, and the whole thing is just a serious conversation and a lifetime full of what-ifs that Michael would sooner altogether avoid for as long as he can.

“You don’t like bunking with me?” Ashton asks, pretending to be upset about it.

“Bedtime, boys,” Liz says, in her motherly, no-nonsense way. “Early start tomorrow.”

Ashton slings an arm over Calum, pulling him down to stand lopsided because he’s taller. “C’mon, Kiwi. If you’re nice maybe I’ll even paint your toenails while we play _truth or dare_.”

“I _dare_ you to try to paint my toenails,” Calum laughs, and he and Ashton head off in the direction of their room doing some kind of weird, _Wizard of Oz_ walk, chased by the echoes of Ashton’s manic giggles.

Liz follows Luke and Michael into theirs, and Michael loves his road-mum but he really hopes she doesn’t stay long because Luke looks all ruffled and sleepy and Michael really wants to kiss him. Like, lots of kisses. He wants to snuggle up against Luke under a pile of blankets and kiss him for an hour, but that’s also just his permanent setting lately. He can’t do that in front of Liz – again, not yet. Even though Michael sort of suspects she knows about them. Luke is such a mama’s boy; he’s never been any good at hiding things from her. And she’s around them all the time now, and she watches like a hawk. Sometimes Michael thinks she must know. She must see it, the way he’s looked at Luke for years, the way Luke finally looks back.

“I’m gonna shower,” Michael says, when it seems like Liz is going to stick around for a while.

When she turns her back for a moment, reviewing their itinerary for tomorrow, Luke winks at him. Michael smiles and blows him a kiss – Luke makes a big show of watching it float over, jumping to catch it, and then shoving it into his mouth.

Michael giggles involuntarily, because Luke is such a beautiful dork and Michael is maybe – probably – in love with him, as secretly scary as that is. He hasn’t said it out loud yet, because there’s just a teeny, tiny part of him that’s terrified Luke won’t say it back.

“What’s funny?” Liz asks, looking over her shoulder and raising an eyebrow.

“Michael’s face,” Luke jokes.

Michael flips him off and then escapes into the bathroom, and from beyond the closed door he can hear Liz telling Luke he deserved that. Michael loves that she isn’t just Luke’s mum anymore.

He showers quickly, just washing away the stress of their extra-long day and wanting to be done as soon as possible so hopefully he can still have some time alone with Luke before they pass out. When he walks back into the main room, with a towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hands, rubbing over his damp hair, Liz is gone. One of her bags is still on the foot of the bed, and Michael definitely needs to run that over to her room because he does _not_ need her noticing she’s missing it in twenty minutes and coming knocking. Michael knows she likes him, but he’s still not a hundred percent certain on how she’d react to what he does to her youngest son in dark hotel rooms – that being, if she doesn’t already know.

Then Michael’s eyes travel beyond Liz’s stripped bag and settle on Luke, curled up on the same bed, on top of the white comforter, fully clothed and fast asleep with his phone lying forgotten next to his hand. Only his feet are tucked under the one blanket folded at the edge of the mattress. It’s … well. It’s downright adorable. Possibly one of the cutest things Michael has ever seen in the entirety of his life.

Michael can picture exactly how it happened. Liz said goodnight, left for her own room, and then Luke lied down to wait for Michael and probably fell asleep after about thirty seconds. They’ve all been run ragged lately, but Luke is taking it particularly hard. He’s their leader, at least in the public eye, so he’s the one everybody expects things from that they don’t expect of Michael and the others. He gets more questions in interviews, has more fans wanting pictures, receives more media attention in general.

For a moment, Michael just stares at him, with a fond smile on his face that he has no control over. Luke looks so damn small, all curled in on himself, his mile-long legs tucked up into his body. He’s so exposed and vulnerable like this, asleep and defenseless and just trusting that nothing bad will happen – that Michael will keep him safe. Michael takes the job startlingly seriously.

He pulls a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt on, and tosses the towels back into the bathroom. Then he locates his phone and can’t resist taking a quick picture of Luke’s sleeping form, because he’s so sweet like this and Michael wants to keep it forever. Michael wants to keep _Luke_ forever.

He runs the bag across the hall to Liz’s room and then comes back and deadbolts the door behind him. No one is allowed to interrupt them now until the morning, unless the building is on fire. And even then Michael would still be annoyed about it.

Luke looks so perfect like this, such an angel when he’s asleep. It’s too good an opportunity, Michael can’t pass it up. He crawls slowly onto the bed beside Luke, careful not to bounce the mattress too much so Luke won’t wake. Michael lies on his side, facing Luke, propped up on one elbow, and just looks at him. Takes in his features; blond eyelashes feathered over high cheekbones, angular jaw, his perfect, straight nose – the kind women in Los Angeles pay ten thousand dollars for. His hair is messier than it would be if they were anywhere cameras could catch them, the usually perfectly sculpted tower a little fluffier than normal. Michael really likes Luke’s hair but somehow right now he likes it even more, because it’s softer and relaxed like every other part of him.

Luke carries so much weight on his shoulders as their frontman. He’s under so much pressure all the time, much more than the rest of them. And he’s the youngest, and the most sensitive, and Michael doesn’t envy him the position being their lead singer has forced upon him.

He wants so badly to be able to shield Luke from the world, and he sort of could when they were back in Sydney, because Michael has a mean streak to him when he needs to and people learned pretty quickly after they became friends that messing with withdrawn, sweet Luke meant messing with the tough, aggressive front Michael puts on. But now everything is different. So many more people have pieces of all of them, and they have fans all over the world and every day more and more things are out of their own control. Lately Michael feels parts of this job chipping away at the sweet parts of his Luke – turning him older and harder and stronger in ways Michael isn’t so sure he likes. He’s loved watching Luke blossom, watching him transform from the shy kid who made covers on YouTube into the confident rockstar he’s becoming. At the same time, he hates the thought that the Luke who used to hang out in Michael’s bedroom after school and whisper secrets to him under the covers of Michael’s bed might be slipping away.

Right now, though, Michael feels like he has that Luke back. Like maybe he never lost him at all; maybe they’ve all just been so busy that Michael’s stopped looking hard enough. Watching him sleep, so peaceful and quiet, he looks like a little boy again and Michael remembers this person. So maybe Luke is still him. Maybe he isn’t changing, maybe he’s just growing – adding new pieces to his own puzzle but keeping the old ones around just the same as they always were. The thought makes Michael happy, because he’s one of the old pieces of that puzzle. Luke is in his too – his constant presence in Michael’s life over the years part of what makes Michael who he is.

Michael contemplates getting Luke undressed and under the blankets so he doesn’t freeze in over-zealous hotel air conditioning, but he’s not sure how he would do that without waking Luke up. Instead he gets back up carefully to yank the comforter off the other bed and drapes it over Luke. Then he flicks the lights off and climbs onto the mattress again, behind Luke this time, cuddling up against his back. Michael blames Luke for the fact that he’s a snuggler now. He never used to be. Then he became friends with Luke, and Luke Hemmings at 14 was the kind of person who was _going_ to cuddle you whether you wanted it or not, so now Michael is like that too and it’s entirely Luke’s fault.

Maybe it’s a little bit Michael’s fault too, for never being strong enough to refuse Luke anything.

He pushes his nose into Luke’s soft hair, inhaling the smell of him. Stale sweat from traveling all day, and the products Luke uses that smell sort of like coconuts. In Michael’s senses, that smell means Luke. Calum and Ashton put stuff in their hair too, but it doesn’t smell the same. It calms him like a sedative, having Luke’s body warm against him, Luke’s scent in his nose.

He slides his arm over Luke’s middle and hugs him a little, and Michael would still like to kiss him until their lips go numb but this is the next best thing if he can’t do that. He likes lying with Luke like this. Like he’s watching over him, keeping him safe. It makes Michael’s protective, possessive side feel like purring.

Luke snuffles a little in his sleep, and it makes Michael smile. He’s so damn cute sometimes it makes Michael’s chest squeeze around itself.

He lets his hand move down, pushing up under Luke’s t-shirt to feel his heated skin. It’s so soft here, stretched tight over Luke’s skinny tummy. Then Michael takes a chance and goes lower, palming Luke through his jeans, his flesh pliable and warm – trusting. It’s a heady thrill, touching him like this, and it sends a shiver down Michael’s spine and at the same time makes him feel like a creep for perving on Luke in his sleep. He’s going to stop, he swears he is, but then Luke lets out a quiet sigh and he starts to stiffen under Michael’s fingers, his body reacting instinctively to Michael’s touch. Michael’s heart skips a few beats.

“Fuck,” he breathes to no one in particular, because that’s way hotter than it should be. Everything about Luke is hotter than it should be. Michael should probably be used to that by now. He isn’t, though. At all.

He swallows thickly, suddenly so turned on he can’t see straight. His heart thuds in his chest as he slips his hand into the miniscule amount of space between Luke’s tight jeans and his cotton underwear, rubbing Luke’s cock through the thin material and transfixed at the feeling of it hardening slowly to his touch.

Luke’s breath quickens, and Michael is halfway between aroused and worried that at any moment Luke’s eyes will snap open and he’ll be pissed at Michael for more-or-less molesting him in his sleep. Mini-Michael wins, though, and he keeps going, coaxing Luke to full hardness, kissing the back of his neck because his lips are used to kissing while he does things like this. Luke is the kind of person who likes to kiss the whole way through, letting Michael fold him in half so their lips don’t have to part while Michael fucks him. He always clings to Michael while they move together, never wanting more than an inch of space between them. Since they became a _them_ , Michael likes it that way too.

“Michael,” Luke mumbles suddenly, half a question.

“Yeah, it’s me, babe,” Michael whispers, assuring him. He kisses Luke’s neck again, leaving a smear of saliva and then blowing a cool breath on it to make Luke shiver.

He does, and then drowsily asks, “S’my mum gone?”

Michael chuckles fondly. “Yes.”

“That’s good.”

“Since I’m touching your dick, yeah, it is good.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees, so serious about it, unaware in his groggy state that Michael is making a joke. “I tried to stay awake. Wanted us to ... sex.”

Michael laughs again, softer this time; fonder. “We sorta are.”

“Oh.” Luke sounds dully surprised, like he hadn’t quite noticed Michael was touching him, and his head tilts down to look at his own lower half even though he can’t actually see it underneath the blanket. “Oh yeah.”

There’s a big, stupid smile on Michael’s face and he hides it against Luke’s skin. He feels lit up inside; Luke doesn’t even have to do anything particularly fabulous to make Michael this happy. His mere existence makes Michael so happy he wants to shout from the tops of buildings. Now that Luke is sort of awake, Michael doesn’t feel so skeevy about it anymore, and he unhooks the button and zipper on Luke’s jeans so he can slide his hand into Luke’s underwear and touch him properly. He curls his fingers around Luke’s cock, hot and hard in his hand, and strokes slowly.

Luke whimpers and reaches back, clutching the side of Michael’s leg. “Mikey,” he breathes.

Michael worms his other arm underneath the tiny gap between Luke’s neck and the mattress, wrapping it across Luke’s broad chest and gently pinching a nipple between his fingers through the fabric of Luke’s t-shirt. He squeezes around Luke’s cock, stroking far him too slowly to finish him off; just enough pressure to drive him quietly crazy.

“You wanna come?” Michael whispers into the skin below Luke’s ear.

“ _Please_.” Luke’s voice is breathless, fucked out, desperate.

“Maybe I wanna tease you for a little while longer,” Michael says, not meaning it even for a moment. Luke was never going to last long anyway, not when he’s still half asleep.

Luke whimpers again and rocks his hips forward, pleading. He’s so breathtaking like this, that Michael doesn’t have a hope of carrying out his admittedly empty threat. He sucks at a spot on Luke’s neck and picks up the pace with his hand, flicking his wrist around the head of Luke’s cock the way he likes. Luke moans and squeezes harder around his handful of Michael’s thigh; his fingers digging into muscle.

“Please, Mikey,” he mumbles, hips moving in short, aborted thrusts, fucking himself into Michael’s fist.

“C’mon,” Michael urges, licking over the faint purple bruise he just sucked into Luke’s skin, and the permission is all it takes.

Luke makes a soft, stuttered noise, beautiful and broken, and spills over Michael’s fingers, into his underwear. Michael strokes him gently through it, his insides burning hot at how pretty Luke is like this and how much Michael probably – okay, fine, definitely – is in love with him. Then Luke just pants for a moment, still holding Michael’s leg tightly as he catches his breath. Luke starts trying to wiggle his pants off after a minute, and Michael helps him get them down over his hips and thighs so Luke can kick them off and to the floor. Then he turns onto his back and looks up at Michael, bleary-eyed and pink cheeked, and Michael smiles and leans down to slide their lips together, slow and sweet.

“Hi,” Luke whispers.

The millionth smile of the evening tugs at the corners of Michael’s lips. It should be scary, how much Luke affects him like this. But it’s Luke, so it isn’t. “Hi.”

Luke reaches for Michael under the blankets, finding his half-hard cock and cupping it in his hand, but his eyes fall closed as he does. He’s so worn out, and Michael doesn’t want to be repaid tonight. Not when what Luke really needs is a full, uninterrupted eight hours of rest.

Michael takes Luke’s hand and moves it away from his own body, squeezing around his fingers and kissing him again as he does so Luke will know he’s refusing for loving reasons.

“You don’t want …?” Luke asks, not opening his eyes. Maybe he can’t.

“I want you to sleep,” Michael tells him.

“I can …” Luke begins again, not finishing that sentence either before his head lolls on the pillow. “ … do it,” he finishes, ten seconds later like a lagging after thought.

“Sleep,” Michael whispers, kissing Luke’s forehead. He wraps his arms around Luke’s drowsy body, holding him close, and Luke’s evened-out breathing says he already is.


End file.
